Liberty Bell
by LOSTforHOUSE
Summary: AU: Takes place after Cameron leaves House's team. Cameron is living in Philadelphia and finds herself needing House's help. This has eight chapters and one of them will be rated Mature. Slow progression to them getting together in the last few chapters.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Cameron had been living in Philadelphia for around three months, and she loved it. Sure, she missed Princeton and her old job, but there was nothing like walking down the quaint, historic avenues of this city. Now that the beginnings of fall had begun to grace the weather about two weeks ago, she had taken to getting a nice, piping hot cappuccino and a good book and going to the park; she loved watching the leaves change ever so softly from green to gorgeous, rich shades of orange and red, and something about the air seemed cozier as well; it felt like home.

It had been just about five months since she stood in House's office and handed over, with as much courage as she could muster, her resignation letter. At home later that evening she felt tired and drained; something in her heart ached. She needed to leave, but she didn't want to venture too far. The day after her last time as a doctor at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital she wanted to go for a drive, and on her way she saw the bright green sign with white lettering "Philadelphia Next Right" and something in her read it like poetry; she needed to go there.

Five months later she lived in a snug 19th century Victorian home on the corner of a quiet street about ten minutes from Thomas Jefferson University Hospital, where she was currently employed in the Immunology department. The home breathed new life into her with the breakfast nooks and reading benches under the bay windows out into the garden. Sunlight danced off the pale green walls of her bedroom in the morning and she couldn't be more content.

She still kept in touch with Foreman and Chase, and received a few friendly e-mails from Wilson every few weeks, but she was surprised how friendly of terms House and her were currently on; and he initiated it. It all started about three months after she left when she received and e-mail with no subject line and all it said was, _"The new lobby art makes better coffee than you."_

She smiled and let out a chuckle at House's unconventional ways of conversation; she really felt that this was some sort of 'I forgive you' even though she had nothing to apologize for, but decided to stroke his already large ego and not correct him, and replied, _"When she's a better kisser than me I'll begin to worry; until then enjoy."_

_"Touchy,"_ was his reply.

For a few weeks they sent friendly correspondence back and forth, until one Saturday morning he showed up at her door. To say she was surprised would be an understatement and she couldn't contain the huge smile or hug she gave him. They went to a local Mom & Pop café and ate breakfast while he listed all of the pros and cons of his new team. The new "lobby art" made better coffee, wasn't a member moral police, and had a better rack-even gave Cuddy a run for her money. Cameron did, however, in his words, "have the superior booty."

These little visits occurred through the end of summer, on a purely platonic level, and she couldn't decided if she was happy or disappointed with that fact. It had been about three weeks since they saw each other, e-mails and phone calls occurred, because he had case after case and she was working weekends to earn some extra cash with the holidays approaching.

She was now sitting on her reading bench with a glass of wine and a copy _Jane Eyre_ as twilight blanketed the sky. She was enthralled in the ending, and willed herself not to cry, again, when she heard her cell phone vibrating on the coffee table; she placed her bookmark on her page and made her way over to the phone. It was a voicemail from one of her colleagues, Dr. Simon Jacobs a cardiologist. She didn't want to call him creepy or a pervert because that wasn't nice, but there really weren't any other words for him. The text read, _"Would you like to get drinks?"_ She really didn't understand this man; she's kindly declined offers in the past, said she had a boyfriend, and once even said she wasn't into men, but he never took the hint. He was a good doctor, and she admired him for that, but he was just too…something; it didn't sit right with her; from the first day they met there was something off. He was sly and you could never hear when he would walk up behind you. Late night in a darkened conference room, lab, even at your car a few times he would prowl up to you like you were his prey. You told House about him once, and he wasn't happy telling you to stay away and muttering, "I'm only allowed to sneak up to you in darkened rooms."

After she was unable to come up with another pithy decline, she deleted it and walked back over to her book. Taking out the bookmark she said out loud, "I'll just tell him I didn't get it Monday morning," and returned to her favorite literary couple of all-time.

Around one in the morning she awoke with a start, "What was that noise?" she said in a whisper; her face set on her alarm clock in deep concentration waiting for it to happen again. When she didn't hear it again after a few moments she sighed and chastised herself, "It's an old house, Allison, of course it's going to make creaks and moans; grow up!"

Cameron slowly began to drift off to sleep again when she felt her comforter slipping away from her and a definite dip on the other side of the bed. She only got out the beginnings of a scream when a large hand gripped over her mouth. Her heart rate skyrocketed and she began to struggle with the stronger intruder; he straddled her hips and yelled at her to shut up; she thought she recognized his voice.

He told her to be quiet, and just to make sure she knew he was serious glided the sharp blade of a knife down her tear-stained cheek. The night ended up cloudy and there wasn't enough moonlight to illuminate her room, but the thought of seeing his face soon disappeared as he moved to unbutton her pajama top. She went to struggle but he quickly silenced her with a slap across the face and another reminder from the blade. With her shirt now open he moved towards her pants; she couldn't allow this to happen.

Without thinking, and praying for the first time in over thirteen years, she reached for the alarm clock on her nightstand, the only object who's location was lit up, and hit him with it; missing the top of his head but hitting his jaw, he fell over on the bed in pain, but quickly sitting up. As he made his way over to her she began moving over to where her treadmill resided, bending down and picking up one of the five pound weights next to it. When she heard him approaching grunting in pain she brought her arms back, and with all her power, struck the weight against the side of his head; he fell, hitting the other side on the corner of her nightstand; he didn't make a sound.

Dropping the weight with a loud clang she ran over to the light switch. Adjusting both her eyes and breathing she looked over to her bed. The bed and her nightstand were a mess, a leg sticking out from the end of the bed. Slowly making her over to the body she realized she hadn't heard him breathing. Reaching the side of his body she couldn't see whom the man was through to the amount of blood that covered his face. Reaching down, slowly, she found the pulse point on his neck, finding nothing she moved to his wrist, nothing there either.

"Shit."

Standing up she slowly made her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs into the living room; flicking on the light she calmly made her way over to the phone. If you asked her later why she dialed House's number and not the police she probably wouldn't be able to formulate a reasonable answer; she can barely even remember what she said to him; all she remembers hearing is, "I'll be right there."

Sitting against the back of her couch waiting for House to get there she realized her blouse was still unbuttoned.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

House arrived outside Cameron's home a little over an hour after she called. He didn't know what happened, but her phone call frightened him. He was fussing around his apartment moving from his piano to his guitar to his television, out of boredom, when his phone rang. He was pissed, thinking it was the hospital, but when he saw the caller i.d. he answered. She barely said two words; she sounded out of it and her breathing was strained. Something was wrong, so he told her he'd be right there.

Now parked on the side street of her home he could see her sitting on the front steps; the railings were obstructing the view of her face, but he could see her legs shaking up and down.

When he reaches her front walk not only are her legs shaking, but she's also biting her nails and staring at the mailbox, completely unaware of his presence. 

"Cameron?"

Nothing. He doesn't want to admit that he's alarmed, but the way his heart starts to beat faster with each step closer to her gives it away.

"Cameron?"

Still nothing. Her legs are moving more rapidly and he can see her hair is disheveled and her blouse is haphazardly buttoned; it's dark, but he thinks he sees a red mark on her face.

Shit. "Allison?" he says in the softest voice he can manage

She finally sees him, but nothing in her face seems to settle; if anything she becomes tenser.

House slowly moves to sit next to her, but she doesn't' say anything. He waits a few moments, tapping his cane against the concrete, "Allison, what happened?"

She removes her thumbnail from her lips and looks at him; her eyes softening as if registering him for the first time, "You need to help me," she tells him calmly.

"Help you with what?" he asks concern evident in his voice; his eyes narrow, looking for a sign from Cameron.

She doesn't answer but stands up and goes through her front door. House stands up looking at the front of her home; there are no lights on except a faint glow from a window upstairs. Eying the stairs, and thinking of the one's he'll potentially have to climb inside, he pops a Vicodin.

House finally reaches the top of the stairs and he sees Cameron's shadow moving erratically across the wall opposite her bedroom. He's watching her shadow as he moves down the hallway and when he turns to face the doorway he's face-to-face with Cameron; jumping back with a start he lands on her shadow.

"Christ, Cameron! What the hell is going on?" He doesn't mean to raise his voice but he swears this all happened in a horror movie once and he didn't enjoy that ending.

She just stares at him in that eerily calm way he saw downstairs. "I need your help."

"Allison, what do you need help with?" House asks as if talking to a five-year-old.

"I did something; something dreadful, and I need you to take care of it." Her eyes are cold and distant, and he can practically see the wheels in her head spinning, for what he did not know.

"Okay, but I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on." As he says this he looks past her and sees the leg sticking out from the edge of the bed.

His eyes dart from the leg to her face in rapid motion; his mouth opening in hopes of forming some exclamation that's appropriate.

House pushes past her and walks over to the body; it's positioned like one of those cliché police chalk outlines. He's a doctor and the sight of blood has never made him queasy before, but the amount of blood covering this man's face, and Cameron's floor, is profuse and he feels his stomach churn. 

He turns toward her, expecting to see her looking at him, but she's still facing the hallway; hands rigid at her side. "Allison," House has never said her given name so many times as he has in the last five minutes but it's all she's responding to.

"Are you hurt?" She doesn't move but he sees her shadow move ever so slightly.

"Did you know him?" He watches her fists clench and unclench a few times before he makes his way over to her. Gently he touches her shoulder and she turns around in a rage clutching his arm and twisting it. He fights with her for a few moments before she breaks down in tears, sliding down against the door frame and looking up at the ceiling.

House freezes. He's never been this confused and scared shitless before and has absolutely no idea what to do. As he drags his right hand over his face he notices something move in the room straight down the hall. The creaks of his footsteps and the gentle tap of his cane are joined by the panicky sobs of Cameron as he makes his way down the cream-colored hallway.

When he enters the back bedroom he realizes the movement is a white curtain from an open window flying in the wind. Making his way over to the window he discovers it's resting above a deck, with stairs receding down into the small backyard. No sign of forced entry; the window apparently wasn't locked.

From his vantage point in the back bedroom he could see she pulled her legs up to her chest and placed her head on her lap. Walking back to her House sits down slowly, trying not to jar his leg or her. House brings his right hand over to her face, sliding the curtain of coffee-colored hair behind her ear; she turns to look at him. Her eyes no longer look cold and distant but very much aware and petrified.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles through her lips.

"Shhh it's okay," he soothes, pulling her to cushion at his side. He has no idea why she apologized to him; maybe it wasn't directly towards him, just her first penance and she didn't care who heard it.

House saw the time was almost three in the morning; the police needed to be notified. He gently rubbed small circles on her shoulder, resting his cheek along her head, "We need to call the police." This caught her attention and a whole new wave of fear cascaded over her. 

"Allison, this wasn't your fault, okay? Allison look at me."

Focusing her eyes on his, tears sliding down her colorless face.

"You did _nothing_ wrong. All you need to do when the police get here is tell them exactly what happened and I promise you nothing bad will happen, okay?"

Moving her body away from him a little bit she shook her head. House placed a firm kiss on her forehead, holding her close again for a moment, silently thanking, no deity in particular that she was alive. 

Getting up holding his hands out for her to follow him, they both slowly made their way downstairs. Going into the kitchen House gave her a glass of orange juice in hopes of regaining some color to her face. After she took a few sips he put his hand lightly on the small of her back, guiding her towards the couch.

Once she was sitting he went over to the phone dialing 911.

_911 what's your emergency?_

"I'd like to report a homicide."

As he gave the 911 operator the information he was watching Cameron take tiny sips from her glass.

Hanging up the phone he went over to sit next to her. House sat down moving his cane in between his thighs and placing his chin on the handle. "The police are on their way," he says, casting a sideways glance at her.

Taking a gulp of juice, nodding her head she says, "Okay." 


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Within ten minutes of House's phone call a patrol car pulls up in front of Cameron's apartment, the car doors slamming and two officers make their way up the walkway.  
Before they could knock on the door House swings it open. "I'm Dr. House, I called 911."

"I'm Officer Jenkins and this is Officer Schwartz," he says, pointing to the stockier of the two. 

"The body is upstairs; first door on the right," House says, motioning towards the stairs. Cameron sat up as they entered and is now looking down at her hands.

Jenkins and Schwartz eye her with concern and wonder as they make their way to the second level. House can hear them moving around upstairs and radioing for more assistance, as he hears this he looks over towards Cameron: he can see the tears in her eyes beginning to fall once more. House makes his way over to her side and sits with her on the couch; she leans into him and he rubs her back gently, placing a small kiss on her hairline.

Footsteps descend from behind them and a few moments later both officers reappear. House looks up, but Cameron's eyes are once again focused on the lines on her hands.

"Were you here when it took place, Dr. House?" Schwartz asks

"No, I wasn't. Dr. Cameron," House nudges her to look up, "called me and sounded upset so I drove over here."

"Where do you live?"

"Princeton."

"That's almost an hour away; why didn't you report this sooner?" Jenkins asks raising his voice slightly, looking at Cameron.

Panic registers in Cameron's eyes and when she goes to speak House cuts in, "Listen officer, do you really think this is the best time to get angry, she was attacked in her bedroom while she was asleep, she panicked. It's not like he got any deader in the time period"

"How do you know he wasn't still alive after it happened?" Schwartz questions House quirking his eyebrow.

Before House could say anything Cameron chimes in, "because I checked his pulse."

"I apologize for my tone ma'am, but there's a dead body upstairs, I'm just trying to piece together what happened," Jenkins says taking a step to the side to stand in front of Cameron.

"Do you know who that man was, ma'am?" Schwartz asks in a calmer voice, eyeing Jenkins.

"I think so," Cameron says in barely a whisper.

All three men look at her as she stands and retrieves her cell phone. "A man I work with, Dr. Simon Jacobs a cardiologist, sent me a text earlier asking if I would like to get drinks; I didn't reply," she hands the phone over to Schwartz. 

"Why didn't you reply?" Schwartz asks

"It was rather late and he…he scares, scared," she corrects, "me a bit," she says looking at House.

They stare at each other for a few moments and both officers take notice. "You knew she had a problem with this man Dr. House?" Jenkins asks.

House stares at Cameron for a more seconds before responding, "She told me once he approached her a few times late at night and I told her to stay away from him, but that's all I heard about him."

"Did he ever harm you Dr. Cameron?" Jenkins asks, watching her walk over to the window.

Moving the curtain aside to look outside she replies, "No, not until tonight." Cameron absentmindedly touches her face where a slight red mark is still visible.

Red and blue lights light up her face and the room, as more police cars and an ambulance arrive in front of Cameron's home. House moves to stand next to Cameron as Schwartz opens the door for the other officers.

Two detectives go upstairs to photograph and look at the scene while Detective Bronson meets with Schwartz and Jenkins, before making her way over to House and Cameron.

"Dr. Cameron," she says in a sweet voice and with a smile, "I'm Detective Bronson, can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

House looks at Cameron, who is still staring at the window, eyes fixated on the lights. She turns slowly and offers the friendliest smile she can and walks into the kitchen with her. Giving a House a brave face as she walks away.

House watches from the living room, barely aware of Jenkins and Schwartz as the talk to the other officers. He stares at her small hands, and how the finger tips of her right hand play at her lips as she talks, and how her left hand combs her frazzled hair. He can tell when particularly difficult questions are asked because Bronson touches her shoulder and Cameron looks up at the ceiling. House watches a detective with a camera walk over to Jenkins; he must say he's photographed the scene because Jenkins nods, and the man doesn't return.

House can see Schwartz at the front door deflecting anxious neighbors' questions and telling them to move out of the way and go home; there's nothing to see here.

House walks over to the window and leans against the windowpane, one eye looking at the commotion outside and the other on Cameron. He hates standing back and watching everyone else having something to do; he feels like a jackass. He wants to walk into the kitchen and tell Bronson to piss off and leave Cameron alone; he wants to be useful.

He's focusing his eyes on Cameron's expressions, but his ears are on the officers and detectives. A short man, he didn't catch his name, tells Schwartz that they found the back bedroom's window open and it leads to the backyard, that's easily accessible through a gate. Another tells Schwartz that the wallet in the deceased's pocket does belong to a Dr. Simon Jacobs and a cell phone was found in his jacket, with the exact text message on Dr. Cameron's phone.

The deceased died, apparently, from two blows to the head: a five-pound weight, and from the fall against the night stand. Jenkins is told that he has approximate time of death from when the alarm clock was ripped out of the wall, 1:05 A.M.

House breathes a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and tapping his cane against the wooden floor. He told Cameron everything would be all right; truth was he still wasn't sure until all those facts were read out loud.

He looks back towards the kitchen only to see Bronson stacking papers together, but no Cameron. He walks over towards the kitchen and looks up the stairs; he must have missed the EMTs coming through the home with the stretcher because they were just turning the corner into the bedroom. He was about to ask Bronson where Cameron went when he saw the light on in the bathroom down the hall.

Reaching the door, and his left hand on the handle, he can hear the sound of the facet being turned on and the clang of the toilet seat cover.

Turning the handle he peaks in and sees Cameron on her hands and knees scrubbing the toilet bowl. Opening the door wider he sees Mr. Clean and Scrubbing Bubbles on the counter top. House can't see her face, but her arms, covered in yellow rubber gloves, are working furiously. He doesn't think this is a time to call her Cameron so he tries, "Allison." 

"I've been meaning to do this since Wednesday but it just kept getting put off. You know, work and coming home tired, so I figured I'd get it done now," she says a little too happily. 

"Allison, stop."

"After I'm done with the toilet I'll clean the shower," she sits back on her feet, "yes, the shower definitely needs a scrubbing."

House walks over to Cameron and grabs her arms, "Allison stop," he says with force. She drops the scrubbing brush and leans back against House's legs; her hair falls down in front of her face. Hooking his cane on the towel rack House slowly sits down behind her. Leaning her head back against his shoulder House moves her hair out of her face and sees what he all ready knew: tears are streaming down her face and her eyes are puffy red. Slowly slipping the yellow gloves off of her hands he holds them and quietly soothes her.

"I saw them bring the stretcher inside and I didn't know what to do; it was frightening, it just clicked what happened, what I had done," Cameron chokes out in a sob.

Leaning his lips down against her temple House murmurs, "you did _nothing_ wrong; you protected yourself, you're alive." He says the last part mostly to himself.

They sit there, on the cold bathroom tile for a long time, footsteps walking about the home, doors shutting, voices talking. The soft glow of the lights casts a gentle light across her face; House can see the fresh tears slipping down over the dried ones as his hand gently rubs her arm and places a kiss every couple of minutes on her forehead.

Cameron cries herself to sleep and House begins to nod off, but his leg is aching too much; he can't reach for his pills without waking Cameron.

There's a knock on the bathroom door a while later and Schwartz slowly enters the room. He tells House that the body has been removed and they have all the information the need at the time. House whispers, "okay." Before he exits Schwartz purses his lips and gives a somber nod, casting his eyes down.

House listens as he hears everyone else departing the home. When he hears the front door close for the final time he decides not to wake Cameron, but that he also needs a Vicodin. Getting his pills without disturbing Cameron too much, he dry swallows two.

Sighing, he looks down at Cameron as she rests against his right side. Placing his head against the vanity behind them, he runs his left hand across his face and checks his watch.

It was almost 6:30 in the morning, the sun was coming up, and he needed to sleep. So he did. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

House awoke three hours later to find himself laying down flat against the floor, and Cameron nestled against his side. The tile was cold and a yellow fur rug was tickling his cheek. He couldn't see Cameron's face from this angle and he couldn't move without waking her, but his leg was beginning to scream and they couldn't stay on the floor any longer.

Grabbing on to the vanity House gently lifts himself up, placing Cameron down on the rug. Rotating his neck three times to work out the kinks and reaching for his pills he looks at Cameron's face: it was tense; her brows were furrowed in a deep crease and her mouth was closed tight. Swallowing his pills and running his left hand across his face he gently calls, "Allison."

It takes four tries but she wakes, eyes squinting and mouth yawning. She pulls herself up against the wall opposite House, "morning," coming out in the middle of another yawn. "Morning," House replies.

"What time is it?"

"About 9:30," House replies not taking his eyes off of her; she's taken an interest in the abstract lines decorating her cream-colored tiles.

Standing up with a groan House motions with his hand for her to follow him. She eyes the bathroom door for a few seconds and then closes her eyes, taking in a ragged breath. When she looks up his hand is still outstretched and his eyes still on her face; she can't read his expression. Accepting his hand House pulls Cameron up to her feet; she falls into his chest and doesn't remove her eyes from the top button on his black shirt. Tracing the insignia on his t-shirt underneath tears begin to fall from her eyes once more.

His chest tightens and his heart aches watching her fall apart; he will admit to neither, and quickly pushes them to the back of his mind, focusing on things that matter: her.

Taking his right hand he brings it slowly up to her face, tipping her chin so she'll look at him. Her eyes are closed when her face is tilted upwards, tears falling down her cheeks. Taking the pad of his thumb House swipes the tears off of her pale cheeks. Opening her eyes she watches him focus on her tears. 

House wants to say something, but for the first time in his life words are escaping him. Cameron can practically see the wheels in his head working to say something comforting, reassuring. He's all ready done more than he knows, and she's grateful.

"I think I should take a shower," Cameron says grabbing House's hand.

"Can I watch?" He asks cheekily.

"_No_" she stresses, a small smile gracing her lips

He nods, in defeat, and steps around her, their shoulders brushing, to retrieve his cane. Cameron walks towards the shower and as she turns on the facets she sees House exiting.

"House," she says meekly, biting her bottom lip.

He turns around with his left hand on the doorknob.

"Could you um…" her eyes flutter closed trying to form the right words.

"I'll be right outside the door." He says strongly, meeting her eyes so she knows he's not going anywhere.

Swallowing she smiles crookedly, "thanks." 

Outside the door House sits on a kitchen chair he retrieved. He said he'd be right outside but he sure as hell wasn't standing. Leaning his head against the wall behind him he closes his eyes. He can hear the water falling to its fate at the bottom of the tub, sometimes in large quantities, she must be rinsing out her hair, and the smell of lavender waifs out from the crack in the door. He looks down the hall, and out into the living room, where a dozen people moved around a few hours earlier cleaning up from the homicide; he still can't believe this all happened.

House hears the water shut off and the glass door slide open as he feels his cell phone vibrate. Locating it in his jean pocket he pulls it out to see "Wilson" scrawled across the tiny screen, "Shit." 

Flipping the phone open he places it to his ear, "Yes?" 

"Where are you? I came by your place this morning and your car was gone. I knew you weren't at the hospital, and I was right, so…what gives?" Wilson asks curiously. House can hear him sip a drink, probably coffee, on the other end.

"I had to deal with something, an emergency if you will, and I had to leave." 

"What sort of emergency? You didn't piss off any more cops did you?" Wilson says with a huff.

"No _dad_, and I didn't say it was _my_ emergency."

"Well, whose is it?" Wilson asks curious.

"I'm at Cameron's, but before you ask what happened, and if she's alright, I should inform you that I have no intention of satisfying your curiosity at the present time," House says, eyes focusing on the door waiting for Cameron to come out at any moment.

"You sleep with her?' Wilson asks in a whisper.

"No, her emergency was not a burning, yearning urge for a booty call," he replies in mild disgust at Wilson. He can't blame him because he didn't tell him what actually happened.

"Look, I have to go; inform Cuddy that I will not be on-call this weekend, and don't call me, I'll call you" House flips his phone closed as Cameron opens the door; her hair and skin is wet and she's only wearing a fluffy white towel.

"I don't have any clothes with me," she says sheepishly, smoothing down the front of the towel.

House only nods, watching the water beads drip down her creamy skin. She smiles briefly and moves past him, walking backwards holding her towel down; he has to laugh.

"I'm not going to sneak a peek, Cameron."

"You never know," she replies. Everything that transpired momentarily forgotten as she heads toward the stairs, and House follows.

"You realize you can't make it to the top without me catching a glimpse, right?" House says laughing at her attempt to walk up the stairs backwards, while holding her towel down.

She laughs and grabs her towel even tighter, "please close your eyes," she whines.

"Oh, all right," he says with a playful huff, placing his left hand over his eyes spreading his index and middle finger open as she turns around. He couldn't see anything; the damn towel is too long.

He chuckles to himself as he listens to her open and close draws in her bedroom. He's halfway to the kitchen to get a drink when he realizes he doesn't hear her anymore. No moving, no draws closing, nothing.

"Cameron?" He calls out, stepping towards the staircase.

"Cam-Allison?"

Shit.

Popping a Vicodin, quickly, he makes his way up the stairs. When he reaches the bedroom door he sees her standing by the side of the bed, looking down to where the body was lying. She's put on jeans, her bra, and has her purple sweater stuck around her neck with one arm through; she's not making any movement.

Making his way slowly over to her, House sees her eyes fixated on the bloodstain.  
"Allison," he says softly, touching her should for her to turn around; she's crying again.

"Come here," he takes her by her bare waist and guides her away from the bed, her eyes looking faraway.

Helping her bring her left arm through the sleeve of her sweater and pulling it down her body he says, "You know what makes any problem, no matter how big, look and feel better?"

Her eyes look up and search his for the answer.

Gently taking her long, wet hair and tugging it out of the neck of her sweater he looks at her face with a soft expression, "Coffee. Lots and lots of delicious coffee."

She lets out a small laugh and he rubs the new tears away from her eyes, skimming her eyelashes.

"Do you know any good coffee shops around here?"

"Umm…yeah, that small café we went to a few weeks ago," she says with a sniffle.

"Good. I'm famished, and you could use a big stack of Belgian waffles right here," he says grabbing her hips.

Cameron laughs watching House turn around and leave the room.

"Come on! I like my women thick!"

Cameron lets out a big laugh and follows him out, closing the bedroom door. 


	5. Chapter Five

A/N: Thanks to those who have put me on their alert lists. Reviews would be lovely. :)

**Chapter Five**

House and Cameron are currently sitting in a quaint diner off the beaten path of Philadelphia, where Cameron said, jokingly, they had their second "non-date." House wasn't amused and told her to hurry up and decide because he was starving. After ordering a healthy portion of pancakes and Belgian waffles, with a side of bacon, Cameron turned to people watching, and House turned to watching Cameron.

"What are you going to do?" House asks her, taking a sip of coffee and watching her face turn rigid. Getting nothing from her, not even a look, he continues, "there's no trial or anything of that nature to workout, it's a simple case, but, of course, there will be paper work," he says rolling his eyes, "there's always paper work when someone dies."

"He had a family," Cameron says quietly, still looking at the other patrons.

"Excuse me?" House questions, squinting his eyes, flicking a piece of a napkin at the snot-nosed kid at the next table.

"He used to talk about his sister and brother a lot, how they were planning a family reunion around Thanksgiving at their parents place." Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she sucks in a ragged, heavy breath.

"I don't care if he had an all access pass to meet Elvis tomorrow and get down in his Jungle room!" House yells, costumers and staff now looking at their table, Cameron begging him with her eyes to quiet down.

"Hou-"

"No! Cameron this man tried to rape you, possibly even kill you, and you're upset that he won't get to see his family again?" House grits out, eyeing her incredulously.

"What _does_ a guy have to do to make you hate him?"

"I do hate him, but excuse me for not being able to help thinking about his poor mother getting the phone call that her son has been killed!" Cameron looks down and fiddles with the cutlery.

"Riiiiight," House drawls out widening his eyes in shock, "I'm sure Charles Manson had a mother, too, wonder how she felt when she found out that her son was a psychopath! Hitler's mom must have felt really terrible wh-"

"I get it! All right! I'm sorry for feeling sad, blue, whatever, I won't think about it again. I solemnly swear to be a frigid bitch from now on." A few tears begin to fall from her eyes.

Cameron swipes the tears flowing from her eyes hastily away and stares out the window. House watches her with a softening expression; he didn't mean to get loud, or angry, but he couldn't' help it, this woman clearly wasn't a stuffed teddy bear made by grandma, but rather, Mother Teresa.

"Allison, I didn't mean to yell, but what did you expect my reaction to be after everything that's taken place in the last ten hours, you tell me that you feel sorry for his family," he says watching her jaw twitch.

"How long have you known me?" She asks turning to look at him. "You claim you have me and my moral compass all figured out, yet you're shocked when I murder someone and feel guilty. I guess you weren't paying as close of attention to me than you thought."

"You didn't murder anyone," House replies in a huff, running his hands over his face. "This is the last time I'll say it so it _better_ sink in: it was self-defense because a deranged maniac broke into your home and tried to rape you, possibly worse, and you-did-nothing-wrong," House leans over the table staring her straight in the eye. All he gets is a stern look in response.

Licking his lips and looking away he quietly says, "I do know you; more than you realize," he sits back in his seat, toying with his napkin. "I _do_ understand that your mind is running a thousand miles an hour, and you feel sick to your stomach about what happened and all the possible outcomes, and you have every right to be. But you have to understand where I'm coming from, too."

Cameron looks up at his last words and eyes him with curiosity. House shifts uncomfortably, taking a sip of coffee, watching her over the cup's rim; the hot liquid stings his tongue.

Speaking slowly and drawing circles with his fingers on the wooden tabletop he says, "Do you think I would have had any remorse, any sympathetic feelings towards his family if I had received a phone call, or read in a newspaper, that something happened to you?"

Cameron shakes her head and he continues, "It's bad enough that he's scarred you emotionally, but physically, I would have had to call in a favor to a few Italians that owe me a favor," he finishes with a smirk.

Cameron lets out a small chuckle and looks at him with endearment, "Wouldn't caring for me like that imply some kind of feelings?"

House looks at her with a glint in his eye. Rolling his tongue around in his mouth a few times before replying, "I consider you a friend." 

A visible smile graces Cameron's lips, a few pearly teeth showing, "Oh? To think it only took almost four years for you to admit that."

"I had to think about it. Where _is_ our food?" House says craning his neck to look around the restaurant.

"You had to think about it for four years?" Cameron asks in a lighthearted manner.

"Yes, I did. Ask Wilson how long it took for me to induct him," he says finally spotting the waitress exiting the kitchen doors.

"Induct? This isn't baseball; there is no Hall Of Fame," Cameron shakes her head at him.

"Oh, I have a Hall Of Fame. There's a Hooker Wing," Cameron laughs wholeheartedly holding up her hand, "I think I've heard enough."

"No you haven't. One can never hear enough. Your brain is like a sponge, Allison, gather up all the knowledge you can before disease takes a hold and you can't even remember when to pee, let alone what lupus is," House puffs out his chest and eyes hungrily the stack of pancakes put down in front of him.

"Do we even know what lupus is? We've never seen it," she asks dripping syrup over her Belgian waffles and watching House smother butter all over his pancakes.

"I do; remember I know all," House says this with a stronger air of arrogance than usual.

"How could I forget?" She chastises herself playfully. Cameron watches him with affection, and disgust, as he shoves syrup and butter covered pancakes into his mouth; he doesn't even stop for a breath has he goes for the crispy bacon and swallows it down with coffee.

"You're a pig," she tells him as she primly places a piece of waffle into her mouth.

"Thank you," House replies with another mouth full of food.

Cameron takes a breath before replying, "No, thank _you_," the air shifts again as she regards him with tenderness.

House swallows, looks at her and gives a small nod, "You going to eat all of that?" He asks, eyeing her big plate of food.

"No, take what you like," she pushes the plate towards him a bit, "You're still a pig."

House regards her with a smile as he chews his food, "I know."

After they ate, they both decided not to return back to Cameron's place just yet, so they found themselves on Market Street at the entrance of the Liberty Bell Museum.

"Do you want to go in?" Cameron asks House as he eyes the tourists.

"No, I was here as a kid and never understood the fascination, so I'm sure as hell not going to try and figure it out now; I was a very smart child."

Cameron laughs, "I never had any doubt, but this means something to a lot of people," she says fondly.

"Does it mean something to you?" House eyes her with curiosity.

"No, well, I mean it symbolizes freedom, liberty, but the crack shows its flaws. Freedom and liberty are lovely concepts, but you always sacrifice part of it to move forward. I'm fairly certain that the crack holds more meaning than just a fluke accident; it did happen three times, maybe it was trying to tell us something." Cameron is now looking fondly through the doors of the museum.

"Tell who something? Cameron if you're starting to hear voices we sho-"

"Could you not joke for just two minutes?" She spits angrily.

House is taken back by her sudden anger, "What are we really talking about here Cameron? Some dumb old bell or a girl who chose to act of the freedom given to her in the big, bad, wide world only to have it thrown back in her face?"

Cameron turns to him sharply, "What are-"

"Oh, don't give me that routine you know perfectly well what I'm talking about. You grew up in a loving family, good grades, popular, gorgeous and could have done anything with your life. But like I've said before, you worked for what you wanted so you could have a self-sense of your own liberty, only when your cracks came they didn't just damage the surface, they cut deep and warped whatever optimistic attitude you had about life," House bends his head to look her directly in the eye as Cameron goes to speak.

"Sure you're Mary Sunshine when it comes to seeing the good in other people's lives, but when it comes to your own you can't tell whether your swimming or drowning," House finishes looking startled at his own words; his eyes change color briefly, shocked at the speed and intensity of his own words.

House is positive he'll never see Cameron cry as much as he has in the past few hours again in his life, at least he hopes, because each time his heart twists a little and there's nothing he can do about it. His words wash over her and her eyes glaze over with sadness.

She begins to walk away but a running child darting in front of her stops her escape. House catches up to her and takes a hold of her with his left arm around her waist.

Her head lands against his chin and whispering into her hair he says, "I'm sorry, but you needed to hear it before you fall any further into self-loathing and pity. I don't want you to go there, I know what it's like, and it's not fun."

Pulling in a heavy breath Cameron turns to look at him, not speaking for a few moments before, "I need to get my carpet ripped up and a new bed; I can't stay there until it's all done," she sniffles.

For a fleeting moment he was worried she was going to yell, hit him, something to make him feel better for feeling like a giant ass, even though he said what needed to be said.

"Okay," he says softly, waiting for her to do something, but she did nothing besides stand a little closer to him. "Where are you going to stay while all that is taken care of?" House asks.

"I'll stay in a hotel; it shouldn't take too long for it to be done, I just have to check with the police that I can remove everything."

House nods, placing his left hand on the small of her back beginning to steer them away from the museum, "let's go get some of your things and see about finding us a room."

Cameron stops abruptly, turning to look at House with a smirk, "Us?"

"Where am I going to sleep?"

"Oh, I don't know your apartment, perhaps," she laughs at the semi-hurt look on his face

"You'd make me drive home today?"

"Well, seeing as how you have no clothes or toiletries I would think you sort of have to, plus it's a short drive, you'll be home in no time," she says watching him step back.

"You're mean," he replies raising his chin and walking past her.

Cameron laughs and follows his uneven gait, "You'll get over it." 


	6. Chapter Six

_A/N:_ _Thank you to those who have reviewed. _

**Chapter Six**

House was serious about sharing a room for the night with Cameron; unfortunately, for him, Cameron was equally as serious about him returning home. House tried his puppy dog eyes and pout, his best sexy drawl of, "Allison," and even a half-hearted attempt with, "Beautiful women should _never_ sleep alone in a hotel," while bouncing on the double bed; nothing worked. House returned home that Saturday evening to ten messages from Wilson, all of them along the lines of, "I want details," and an empty apartment.

Cameron, on the other hand leaned for a long time against the door of her room with her eyes closed. Truth was she wanted House to stay, but she needed sleep and he was distracting her far too much.

Around one-thirty in the morning, after three hours of useless attempts at sleep, she text House; part out of fear that any moment a man was going to break through the door, and part because she missed him. When she worked at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital she would always get a flutter in her stomach when she saw him, and she acted on it, but it didn't work out the way she wanted; now that he was back in her life these past few months she couldn't help but think things were changing between them. Remembering too well what happened the last time, she kept her mouth shut

House lay awake for a while thinking. He thought about the three years he saw her practically everyday, and the time he wasted. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't help toying with her and it wasn't because he got a sadistic pleasure at watching her squirm but because he absolutely loved the pale pink blush that would rise on her creamy skin. After three months of her absence it was that pale pink blush he missed around the office more than anything else. He willed his overactive mind to be quiet so he could get some sleep, but the moment he felt himself begin to drift into slumber his cell phone beeped on the night stand. When he read "Cameron" on the screen his stomach dropped, a thousand possibilities as to what it could say ran through his mind. While he sat up in bed he grabbed his pants, preparing to make another drive out to Philadelphia, he flipped open his phone. "Hi," was all it said.

He chuckled, and mentally slapped himself, as he wrote back, "Hello."

They conversed in that form for almost an hour, keeping her eyes, mind, and body busy were her main goals, and it worked. They talked of nothing consequential, but it made her feel safe, and when she started to yawn she text him goodnight.

Arriving at Cameron's home, at one in the afternoon, on Sunday, House could see Officer Schwartz talking with Cameron on the front porch; he couldn't see her face, but her arms were wrapped tightly around her waist. Stepping out of his car and walking up to them, he passes a van and could hear voices and banging from inside the house. Nodding to Schwartz, House slowly made his way up the steps and upon reaching the top, popped two Vicodin. On turning around House could tell that Cameron had been crying. She didn't say anything, just stood there, clutching her stomach and looking down at the ground.

"Dr. House, the department has a special company we work with to clean up in cases like this," Officer Schwartz says, motioning upstairs with his right hand; left grasping his belt.

"I see; are they almost done?" His eyes focusing on Cameron as he speaks to Schwartz.

"Yes, I believe they are; the furniture just needs to be put back in place," Schwartz nods, looking through the front door and up the stairs, where two men were bringing down the old carpet. Cameron was staring blankly at them and House walks over to move her out of the way; he gently touches the clasped hands around her waist and moves her to the side.

The two gentlemen, dressed in blue jumpers, haul the carpet down the steps and into the back of the van. Cameron watches them and relief washes over her, as does a new sense of fear. House's left hand moves up to her neck and his thumb rubs small circles over the delicate strands of chocolaty hair at the apex of her neck.

"Is everything finished upstairs?" Cameron asks, staring at the men closing up the van.

"I'll go ask," Schwartz says making is way over to the men.

House goes to speak, but Cameron pulls away from him abruptly and walks through the front door. Following her in House finds her in the kitchen, sorting through a few bags from Bed, Bath & Beyond.

"I woke up early this morning and decided not to waste it, so I bought some new bedding," pulling out pale blue-colored sheets, pillow cases and covers out of one bag. Looking around House could see other bags filled with pillows and a new comforter.

Picking up one of the new sheets House says, "Eight hundred thread count? What did these cost you?"

"They cost enough, but I decided to splurge," Cameron replies beginning to open the packages. "I need to wash these; they smell like plastic," she says this while sniffing the sheets, wrinkling her nose. Sitting down House grabs one of the new pillows and places it behind his head; he lets out a sigh of contentment and a soft, "Nice."

Cameron giggles and busies herself with opening the rest of her purchases when she notices House staring at her with a quizzical expression.

"What?"

"I'm just wondering, you bought new sheets, new pillows, why not a new bed?" He asks, carefully watching her expression harden and then go soft again. Tearing apart the plastic casing enclosing the pillowcases she looks at him, "Because I've had that bed since I was a little girl; my grandmother helped me pick it out and I've had it for twenty-two years."

A quick smile graces House's lips before he nods and looks towards the front door where Schwartz is entering.

"What, no jokes about me being sentimental and pathetic?" Cameron asks him in a whisper.

He regards her for a moment, "Nope. I loved my grandmother, too." They both were staring at each other when Schwartz came waltzing into the kitchen.

"Well, your bedroom is all cleaned Dr. Cameron. You can use again as soon as you like."

Cameron began playing with one of the plastic bags and nodding to Schwartz. House went to go speak, but Schwartz cut him off.

"I was telling Dr. Cameron before you showed up that this case was ruled a self-defense homicide, therefore, no charges will be brought against her," Schwartz says slowly, focusing his attention between House and Cameron. House knew this all along, but a brick seemed to lift off of Cameron's shoulders.

"What I didn't get to tell her was that Dr. Simon Jacobs had a history of this kind of behavior," gesturing towards Cameron. "In high school and college two women filed restraining orders against him, but they were later dropped."

"Why?" House asks.

"I don't know, Doctor, I'm sorry," Schwartz responds, offering his best apologetic face.

Shaking House and Cameron's hands Schwartz began to leave before Cameron calls out, "What did they tell his family?" Tears welling up in her eyes as she speaks.

Schwartz looks at her with bewilderment, "I'm sorry, I don't know; they live in West Virginia and the local police will be informing them," he finishes looking House.

Cameron goes to speak again but she begins to cry, clutching on to the counter top. Schwartz nods at House and makes a quick exit. Cameron's sobs grow louder and House moves over to her, rubbing her back as she continues to cry.

"I'm sorry," she muffles out through a sniffle.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he says in the calmest tone he knows.

"No, not for that. I keep crying and sobbing around you and I know you hate it," she turns around wiping her palm over her eyes, scooping up tears along the way.

"I don't hate it," he says softly, "sure it can get annoying but if it's what you need to do then cry away." Cameron laughs and moves to get a napkin to blow her nose. "You wouldn't cry."

"No, I wouldn't; but I would be high on Vicodin and scotch for a few days," he responds with a smirk.

Cameron smiles and looks at him fondly, "I have to wash the sheets," she says and moves to gather them all, walking down the hallway to the laundry room. House laughs, watching her retreating form down the hall, waiting to hear her moving around before he walks over to the couch and sits down with a dramatic sigh.

Cameron begins to walk into the living room, calling from down the hall, "Did I wear you out Dr. House?" she questions raising her eyebrows, "my apologies," she finishes sarcastically.

"No, but if you come over here you can wear me out all you like," he leers at her, wiggling his eyebrows and winking at her.

"You know for someone who hates people you're certainly one of the biggest flirts I've ever met," she says, sitting down next to him on the couch, their thighs touching.  
"I can't help it; I'm just too sexy for my body."

Cameron begins to laugh; at first House found it funny but after the first two minutes his large ego was beginning to get insulted.

"You can stop anytime now, really," House drawls, eyeing her face, which was beginning to turn bright red.

Calming herself down, "I'm sorry, I just really needed a good laugh."

"Well, I'm glad I could help," he says sarcastically.

Cameron suddenly turns serious, "You have helped," she says stroking his arm.

House watches Cameron's hand and a tightening in his chest, that he refuses to acknowledge as familiar, rises. Clearing his throat he asks softly, "You sleep good last night?"

"Eventually, I did for a few hours," she replies.

"Well, I'd like to thank you for the ache in my thumbs and the burn in my eyes; next time you want to talk, call me."

"Oh, stop being a baby," she tells him, he responds by sticking his tongue out.

Realizing he dosed off House sits up quickly, looking around the room for Cameron.

"Hey there sleepy head," he hears from behind him. House turns around to see Cameron holding a laundry basket full of the newly washed sheets and the new comforter and pillows. Cameron smiles, and a warm feeling enters her chest as she looks at him and his disheveled hair and dazed eyes.

"Could you help me with this?" She asks motioning with the laundry basket and biting her lip.

"Sure," he answers after a moment.

Cameron makes her way slowly up the stairs, and not because House was behind her but because she was scared of what her room would look and feel like. Reaching the top she slowly made her way to the bedroom door; looking in the faint fall sunlight glistened on the newly exposed wooden floor.

The bed was bare, save for the two piled mattresses. Placing his left hand on her waist, and giving it a gentle squeeze, he directs her into the room. Placing the laundry basket down at the foot of the bed she walks over to wear Dr. Simon Jacobs's body laid not too long ago. Looking for any sign of what happened she scanned the surrounding area. The alarm clock and dumb bell were removed to bring to the coroner for the official cause of death.

Cameron was occupied by her own thoughts that she didn't hear House move away. Bending down and picking up a white sheet he asks, "Where's this go?"

Cameron shakes herself out of her reverie and looks at him, "That's the mattress cover; it goes under the fitted sheet," she explains.

"What's a fitted sheet?" House asks in confusion.

Walking over to the window she opens it to let some fresh air in, "House, how do you not know these things? You live by yourself; who makes you bed?" She asks him, walking over to him and taking the mattress cover from him.

House doesn't say anything, but Cameron can see a faint blush underneath his scruffy beard. "Oh my God!" she exclaims.

"What?" He asks harshly.

"Please don't tell me Wilson does this for you," her eyes wide and a huge grin threatening on her lips.

"Fine, I won't tell you," he says turning around towards the opposite side of the bed. "I wouldn't suggest laughing, unless you want to set this bed all by yourself."

"I won't laugh," she says stifling a grin and tossing him the other side of the cover.

They make the bed together, each stealing glances at one another, the feeling of domesticity not being lost on either. Finishing smoothing out the comforter, and giving one last fluff of the pillows House stands back and gives a satisfied breath.

"What do I get for doing my chores like a good little boy?" House asks with a cheesy smile on his face. Cameron laughs, picking up the laundry basket on her way over to him. When she stands in front of him she reaches up on the tips of her toes to place a kiss on his nose. Realizing what she did Cameron backs away, eyes focusing on the ground and a pale pink blush rising in her cheeks.

_There it is_ House thinks. "Any more chores that need to be done, so I can find out where else you'll kiss?"

A brief look of shock registers on Cameron's face before she notices his grin, "Get out of my bedroom, House."

"Fine, but once I leave don't expect me to come back," he says face-to-face with her.

"That's a risk I'll be willing to take," she responds glancing from his lips to eyes.

Standing up he walks out the door and turns around and says, "You'll be sorry," before making his way down the stairs.

Cameron smirks and walks over to close the window. Turning around she eyes the bed and floor: it looks different and that's what she wanted. She didn't want Jacobs to win, so even though she was scared she was refusing to run.


	7. Chapter Seven

**_This chapter is rated Mature, please be eighteen or older._**

**Chapter Seven**

Pulling into a parking space outside of the Holiday Inn on Arch Street, House turns off the engine to his car watching Cameron climb out. House slowly moves to join her and as he's closing his door he hears her ask, "What are you doing?"

"My mother always told me to accompany a lady to her door," he smiles at her, limping his way around the car.

"Right," she laughs, "because you listened to everything your mother told you."

"I did; she's my mommy," House replies in a weepy voice as me makes his way to the hotel's front entrance. Cameron sighs and follows his uneven gait, while digging through her purse for the room key.

Stopping just outside the doors she watches House as he flips through brochures and scratches his stubble. Her heart swelling with something she didn't want to acknowledge; she made herself a promise that she wouldn't fall into that trap again, but after everything that's happened over the past two days, and the unexpected friendship they've developed, she sees the man she fell for during the first year of her employment under him.

Walking behind him she grabs his left hand as he goes to grab another brochure and drags him to the elevator. "Come on," she chuckles walking past the steel elevator doors, disfiguring their figures as they wait for one to open. Fiddling with the key card in her left hand she doesn't realize that she's still holding his left hand in her right, until she looks up and sees their awkward reflection in the doors. Dropping it quickly she mutters, "Sorry," and blushes, much to House's delight. Riding up to the third floor is done in silence as Cameron still feels embarrassed and stands on the opposite end from House. House laughs to himself, relishing in the fact that he could still make her nervous; it's a feeling he enjoys.

Entering room 394 it's a pleasantly decorated room with one large double bed covered in a maroon floral comforter; a nightstand with an alarm clock, lamp, and telephone reside to the right, as does the large window that currently has its curtains closed; the light peeking through slightly from the small gap in the middle. The television is enclosed in an armoire and to its right is a luggage stand holding Cameron's small suitcase.

Plopping himself down on the bed House lays his cane down on the floor and picks up the hotel's amenities list. Cameron turns on the light switch by the bathroom door and a faint golden glow over the room. She kicks off her black boots; she walks her sock-covered feet over to the edge of the bed, sitting down she smoothes out her black skirt and runs her hands over the soft, cashmere fabric of her beige sweater. Giving her ponytail a shake she turns toward House who is still flipping through the hotel's pamphlet. House finishes and tosses it to the side, landing on the floor, and cranes his head up to look at her.

"What?" he asks shifting and sitting up and shifting his legs over the side of the bed to sit next to her. Cameron stands up and crosses over to the wall, rubbing her hand across her neck, "Nothing," she answers shakily; she drops her gaze to the green carpet and shuffles her feet.

House regards her and finds an annoyingly pleasant feeling filling his chest; he finds himself watching her be adorably shy and thinking about the three years he toyed with her, the three months he tried to forget her, the two months in which they've become friends, and the last few days in which he almost lost her; he concludes he's an idiot.

Shaking himself out of his reverie he looks at her toying with her fingers and biting her bottom lip, and he can't continue to hold himself at arms length any longer.

"Allison," he says softly watching her look up; her eyes appear teary.

"Yes?" she watches him sitting on the bed.

"Come here," he says simply.

Cameron's eyes go wide for a moment, "Why?"

House doesn't verbally respond but his eyes grow darker. Cameron takes a deep breath and slowly walks over to stand in front of him. House looks up at her tentative expression and brings both his hands to her hips; first feeling the soft fabric of her sweater and then teasingly sliding his fingers underneath to feel her even softer skin. Cameron takes in a ragged breath and the tears threatening to spill before now slide down her face.

House lifts her sweater up, exposing her taut stomach, placing a kiss above her belly button. Then, rotating his scruffy face on her stomach gently as he looks up into her eyes, she shivers and savors the feeling of his calloused hands sliding behind her hips and up her back. Pulling her as close as possible he buries his head in her torso, relishing in its feel, smell, and darting his tongue out briefly, taste.

Cameron brings her hands up to massage his neck and entwine her fingers through his thinning hair. House removes his right hand from underneath her sweater, and takes it up to her ponytail and slowly takes it down, her velvety brown hair spilling down across her shoulders. Bringing his hand back down he trails his fingers down her sensitive neck and gently over left breast; she takes in a breath and briefly closes her eyes.

House caresses his way down over her hips and under the bottom of her skirt, gently massaging her thighs. Not breaking eye contact she removes her hands from him and brings them to the hem of her sweater, slowly sliding it up; she hears House suck in a breath when her ivory lace, push up bra is exposed. Pulling it over her head she tosses it to the side and gives her hair a quick shake, she blushes watching House's attentive gaze. House moves his hands up and around her body to the zipper at the back of her skirt. Keeping his scruffy chin on up stomach and looking into her eyes, he slides the zipper down, cupping her firm ivory lace covered buttocks in his hands.

Cameron kicks her skirt away and moves forward to straddle his hips, with his hands still firmly in place she sinks down a bit; his chin pleasantly scratching her torso up until his face is even with her breasts. House removes his hands and brings them up to the back of her bra and unclipping it, sliding it down her arms and tossing it to the floor. His hands trace her breasts, his palms gently coaxing her nipples; she leans her head down and places a kiss on his hairline. Leaving his left hand in place, House takes his right and slides it up her neck, and past her hair, to bring her lips down to his own. The kiss is slow: he nips at her bottom lip and she sighs into his lips.

Cameron moves her hands to House's dress shirt and slips it off and tossing it with her left hand and bringing her right down to the hem of his t-shirt. When she slips her hand under to his skin he draws a ragged breath and buries his face into her neck, placing open mouth kisses at its hollow. Cameron continues to caress and run her nails down his hair-sprinkled chest, while lifting his shirt up. House alternates from kissing her neck, lips and breasts as she begins to slowly rotate her hips on his denim-covered crotch; her skirt is around her hips and her lace-covered pussy is rubbing against his jeans causes a tingling sensation in her stomach.

House moans as his arousal begins to grow under her ministrations. Leaning back he pulls away from her and pulls the rest of his t-shirt over his head. Leaning back on his elbows he watches Cameron as she leans over him with her hands pressing against his chest, circling his nipples. They regard one another: Cameron with her swollen lips and House with his tousled hair, and both offer shy smiles. Cameron takes her right hand and lightly traces it down his torso to the buckle and zipper of his jeans. Never removing her eyes from his, she unbuckles and unzips his jeans tugging them down to his pelvic bone before she stopping, noticing a glimmer of fear in his eyes. She leans over him on all fours and leaning down, she kisses him; she only lets her tongue touch his for a second before she scoots back and helps him remove his pants and boxers. Cameron brushes her left hand over his erection briefly, hearing House let out a gentle moan, and moves her hand over to his scar. She traces it lightly before reaching back up to kiss him; this time he brings his left hand up to hold her in place, kissing her with all the yearning he's felt for her over the years that was crippled by his fear.

"How did I end up being naked first?" he asks pulling away from her lips, their noses touching. Cameron smirks, "It's the least you could do after making me wait almost four years."

House laughs, "I guess, but could we do something about these," he brings his hands behind her to rub them over her buttocks and play with the hems. "Right away," she replies, placing a kiss on his lips before edging backwards and standing on the side of the bed. House sits up on his elbows and watches her intently as she hooks her fingers underneath the lace and slides her panties down.

"You're exquisite," he breathes out with a sigh. The lamp in the corner illuminating them both gently in soft light and shadows.

Straddling his hips once more she hovers above his erection as he takes his right index finger and slides it across her warm and moist center; she moans tipping her head back exposing her long creamy neck. House sits up a little straighter and begins to kiss a path from her clavicle to the underside of her left ear, "Do you have a condom?"

Cameron bends her head down and kisses a path from his left temple to his ear, "I'm on the pill," she responds while biting his earlobe. House nods against her neck and grasps her hips, she grasps his cock and together they slowly connect; they both moan and let out a sigh of contentment. They each seek out one another's lips as they begin to move. House leans back a bit and watches Cameron as she rocks above him, head tilting to the side, hair spilling over he shoulders, mouth parting with moans and a red blush rising from her breasts to her cheeks; House watches it rise as if it's the most erotic display he's ever seen.

Both their climaxes grow quickly and their pace quickens; Cameron's moans become louder and her right hand grips onto her hair as she continues to ride House; he watches her breasts bounce and the sweat glisten off of both of them as the tightening in his lower abdomen grows fast and her pussy grows tight.

Cameron's orgasm arrives first as she lets out a tiny scream and throws her head back; House follows forty seconds later as he falls back onto the bed, thrusting into her as he empties from his orgasm.

They both take a few minutes to recover, House still inside of Cameron, as she lays on his chest; he runs his hands down her back, tracing her spine. Cameron moves her head slowly and House hears her laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" He asks slightly nervous.

"It's only four o'clock in the afternoon," she says raising her head to look at him.

House smiles and rubs his right thumb down her cheek, "You have this room until tomorrow morning, right?"

"Checkout is eleven, why?"

"Just wondering how long I could lay here for before we do that again," he smirks at her.

Cameron chuckles, "We're doing that again?" she asks cheekily.

House's lips hover below hers as he responds, "most definitely."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Arriving back at Cameron's home a little after noon on Monday, House immediately sought to make himself at home. Kicking off his shoes, and shrugging off his blazer, and settling himself into her sofa he lets out a satisfying groan.

"Comfortable?" Cameron asks with a smirk, standing to the side.

"Very; but you know what would make this even more perfect?" House asks with a waggle of his eyebrows.

The corners of Cameron's lips quirk up slightly, preparing herself to lay down next to him; a shiver runs through her body thinking of the previous night and that very morning, "What?"

"The fact that I could go for a really good cup of coffee, and you happen to make the best, that I know of, in the great state of Pennsylvania." He says with his best boyish smile.

"Okay, then go for it."

"Ha ha. I meant, like, you go for it. Or in this case, make it."

"You're incorrigible," Cameron replies, shaking her head but she can't help the smile that has found its way to her face.

As Cameron is walking into the kitchen House shouts from his seat, "Do you have any cookies, donuts, things of that nature?"

"No, I don't keep junk food in the house," is Cameron's muffled reply as she busies herself with making the coffee and taking out two mugs. Waiting for the coffee to perk she walks back into the living room and leans on the doorframe; her arms cross, and raising her left eyebrow, she playfully awaits his next demand.

"No junk food?" House asks with his mouth agape.

"Nope. Is this something difficult for you to comprehend? Perhaps I should write it out, or give you a piece of fruit." She replies contorting her face as if she's actually trying to decide.

"You're a liar. Not even stashed somewhere for that particular time of the month when you have a hankering for a Hershey bar and some pretzels at midnight?" House questions her, sitting up and squinting his eyes, looking right through her.

"No, I don't know what you're talking about," Cameron responds, failing miserably at trying to hide the smile on her face.

"You," he says pointing his cane at her, "are a big liar, and for that, you must suffer the consequences," standing up and making his way over to her.

Placing her hands on her hips Cameron shakes her head, watching House stalk up to her. Standing right in front of her and leaning in so their noses were touching, lips grazing hers, he places his hands on either side of the doorframe, "Cameron," rumbles out from deep within his chest.

"Yes?" she replies, her eyes never leaving his as she pulls her lips back a little bit, placing her hands on his chest to hold him at bay.

"Come on," growls, and half whines, from his lips. "Think of all the fun things we could do with the chocolate," he finishes by licking his lips.

Cameron licks her lips and stands on the tips of her toes, "Don't try and manipulate me with sex," she tells him moving in for a kiss. House ceases the moment; backing her into the doorframe he pins her with his hips, and she lets out a small moan.

Before House can get his hand up to the front of her pink-lace bra, Cameron moves away quickly into the kitchen, "Coffee's ready," she smiles at him, biting her swollen bottom lip.

House hangs his head in defeat and moves up behind her, making it difficult for her to do anything by grabbing the milk, sugar, and stirrer, and limping over to the table before she can make hers. House sits down and begins to make his cup.

Cameron sighs, grabs her empty mug and walks over to the kitchen table, taking a seat across from him. Finishing, House lines everything in a row and pushes them towards her, "You can go now," he says sarcastically.

"Thank you," she replies dryly.

House watches her make her coffee, leaning back in his chair, eyeing her with a melancholy fondness: he won't get to see her everyday, and that worries him; for two completely different reasons, but he won't allow himself to get affectionate so he settles on number two: he's worried.

Never one for tact he dives right to the problem, "How are you going to be by yourself?"

Cameron cracks her neck and watches her coffee as she stirs it, "Not great, but I'll be all right." She responds, looking up at him and trying her best to smile.

House sits up so that his elbows are resting on the table and he's leaning in towards her, "I could sta-"

She interrupts before he can finish, "No, you couldn't, but thank you." She offers him a smile, "You can't use me to get out of work, and I can't use you to get out of work; I have to face this and you have to face clinic duty."

"Oh, but we could use each other in many different ways that I can guarantee you we'd both enjoy, and I'm offended that you'd think I'd try and get out of clinic duty; it's my favorite," he replies holding his head high in mock indignation.

"Very funny, but I'm serious," she tells him, taking a sip of coffee. "I'm going back to work the day after tomorrow and I'm going to _try_ and face this head on. I don't want to run away from my problems, like I have in the past," she finishes, bringing the coffee cup to her lips.

House stops. The piping hot liquid burning his throat and he stares at her, "Was I one your problems before?" He questions her, his face unreadable.

Cameron stares back at him, trying to read his mind but as she knows, it's useless. "You," she begins slowly, "were a problem."

House's eyes blink, visibly shocked by her answer. Nuisance? Yes. Adorably intrusive? Of course; but he never saw himself as an actual problem of hers.

Cameron watches House as he looks everywhere but at her, trying to think of something to say. "I said you _were_ a problem. Past tense." She moves to the seat next to him, grabbing his face in her left hand forcing him to look at her.

"You drove me crazy, everyday."

House went to speak, but placing her right middle and index fingers against his lips she gave him a stern look, "Let me finish. You drove me crazy, in the best possible way; I did want to murder you some of the time but then you'd do something," twirling her right hand in the air searching for the perfect word she settles on, "_right_," smirking remembering the last time she used that word.

"You're a good man, despite what you may think, and I don't think I could have gotten through these past couple of days without you," she looks at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. His eyes are softer than before and her fingers are still against his lips.

Pressing his lips forward he kisses her fingers and with his left hand reaches up and takes a hold of her wrist. "I'm a slow learner; it takes me at least four years. I just learned the other day that Wilson _really_ doesn't like when I take his food."

Cameron laughs out loud, leaning her head into his chest. "Thank you," she says into his neck. House leans down and presses a kiss into her hair; his left hand slowly running up and down her back.

House's hand begins to move underneath the back of her shirt, playing at the creamy white skin of her back, when Cameron slowly sits back. His hand travels around to the front of her body and starts to dance over her stomach, Cameron leans even further away staring at him with a grin.

"What?" House asks faking ignorance.

Cameron takes her hands and runs them up his thighs, and reaching his hips she says, "I think you should go home now."

"Why?"

"Because," she starts looking down, then looking up into his eyes, "I need to start that process of healing so many people talk about and with you here, distracting me," she smirks, "I won't be able to begin."

"Right. Well, it's early, and I could show you some healing of my own: sexual healing," House says raising his eyebrows.

Cameron gives a hearty laugh and standing up she points to the front door.

"I'm serious," House responds to her laugh, standing up and taking a Vicodin.

"I don't doubt that you are, but like I said, I need to face this whole mess head on and I intend to start immediately, without any distractions," she says poking him in the chest.

Taking his hand she leads him towards the couch, "Put on your shoes," she points to the floor where his Nike's are haphazardly thrown.

"You're bossy," he says walking past her to sit down, "me likey," he winks at her, putting on his shoes.

Cameron smiles and walks over to the front door holding it open, leaning on the door handle, watching House limp over and getting his keys out of his pocket. Standing in front of her juggling the car keys in his hand, " I can stay, if you want me to," he tells her looking her dead in the eye.

She smiles, "I know, but you need to go home," she says, reaching up to kiss him. Their tongues glide softly over one another's and he places his left hand on her hip to steady. Cameron pulls back and tells him, "Shoo!" before she playfully pushes his chest.

House chuckles and makes his way down her front steps and upon reaching the pavement he hears Cameron closing, and locking, the front door. House smiles and gets into his car, pulling away without looking back but he knows he'll hear from her tonight, and he does.

Cameron calls House every night for the first two weeks on her own; she calls on false pretense of asking inane questions, like how to install a new ink jet into a printer and to ask if he saw Gravedigger on television the night before.

He never calls her on the real reason but just talks to her, sometimes for a few hours. After the first two weeks the calls lessen, but they make plans to see one another through their busy schedules. House tells her it would be a lot easier if she came back to Princeton, but she brushes him off saying they're not that far away from one another, and the distance is doing them more good than harm; they need their space.

House shows up at her apartment on a Friday night one month later, toting a plastic bag full of junk food and beer. "I told you I like my women, woman," he corrects, "thick."

She laughs and says, "I'm not your woman and if you're going to have that mentality you can turn around right now, " gesturing towards his car.

"Relax. But I am very fond of Brazilian hips," he says entering, "perhaps we can work on that; add a little spice."

"I'll get right on that," she says laughing as she shuts and locks the front door.

House starts taking his purchases out of the bag and motions his head toward the locked chain on the door, "Plan on keeping me here?"

She smiles and moves to sit down next to him, "Eh, I may be convinced to keep you for a little while."

* * *

_A/N:_ Thank you very much to those who reviewed, and put this story on their Alert and/or Favorite list; it means a lot. :) 


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